


Speechless

by littleredlo



Series: Less is More [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Fluff, M/M, implied theyre gonna bang later, it could be musical or historical lams because its left vague so, tiny baby ficlet for my fav gay and my fav bi babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:56:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5544209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleredlo/pseuds/littleredlo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time in Alexander's life, there aren't enough words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speechless

**Author's Note:**

> Main tumblr: littleredloki  
> Hamilton trash tumblr: justshutuphamilton
> 
> Please comment, it makes my life.

Nobody knew. Not even them.  
Not really, anyway.  
They knew the name for the sort of things, the sort of moments they shared, but they always called it a different one. A safer one.

Alexander had, to allow understatement, a way with words. Writing was reason, writing was legacy, writing was to be. He couldn’t understand within his life how, then, he could never find the proper words or proper set of words for the fire left in his skin at even the slightest touch John dared allow. He wrote friend where he knew he could write paragraphs. He wrote Laurens where he knew he could write pages. 

They weren’t friends. John Laurens was more than his name.

 

When John addressed it, it was a quiet afternoon. It was cold, but the softness of each other’s embrace felt as though even the deepest of Dante’s hells could be warmed by it.

“You never once have said aloud that you love me. You write it, at your leisure and comfort, but what is this if you won’t say it to me?”

“Laurens, I have to allow you to see a side of me I’m sure you’ve never anticipated, and I beg you to not drown in the shock of it. I am, in fact, one very uncomfortable with simplifying.” Alexander began, and the other man’s face lit with humor enough at the sarcasm to send him onward. He had rarely met anyone so well adjusted to his occasionally misplaced wit.

He went on, “I call you friend, I write you love, but I cannot say with lips so tainted with yours that any word I shall ever find will do justice all I feel. If you’d like me to, it’s the easiest thing in the world to say I love you, because I do. It’s more than that, though, more than anything. You, when you ask me how I feel, have done the impossible, my dearest, Laurens. You leave me speechless. Not for lack of words, but for not enough. I want to, in all ways I can, prove through action what I can’t in words. Forgive me, Love, all I fail to say with my letters and conversation, I beg chance to write it all with my fingertips.”

John moved closer.

“You know, Alexander, that I am truly terribly fond of your writings.”


End file.
